The growth of a bond
by mightjustbe
Summary: Brennan and Booth grow closer after yet another attack on her. Please RR, and the rating is for violence and some minor adult like themes nothing extreme or graphic! Slight spoilers for killer in the concrete and any eps before it!
1. Chapter 1

She swirled the spoon inside the small, porcelain cup, watching the dark liquid climb up the edges of the glass, almost overflowing. "Bones?" His soft voice awakens her from her stupor, and she hesitantly meets his gaze, feeling his eyes wash over her. She knows what she looks like, knows what he sees as his eyes search her face, and she is glad when he doesn't comment on her appearance. He gives her a small smile, and it slightly warms the coldness that has taken her over. "How you holding up?"

She shrugs, and fights the urge to sigh, "I'm alright, Booth." She meets his eyes again and feels the overwhelming tug of tears at the corners of her eyes. She tries to keep her lip from trembling, but she can still hear them, feel them, smell them… it is too much for her. She didn't know if she'd see him again… He notices her emotional turn and she smiles when he reaches across the table to hold her hand.

"No, you're not. But it's… it's to be expected. You'll be fine, I promise," he fishes in his pocket with his free hand and throws a pile of crumpled bills onto the table, flipping them with his fingers to ensure he's left enough for the bill and a tip. "Let's get you home…"

"NO!" She shouts, and he sits back down across from her, his eyes wide but his hand still squeezing hers. She can feel the other patrons watching her, and she bites the inside of her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell." She shakes her head and stares at the laminated table top.

"What's wrong, Bones? Why don't you…" And suddenly, it dawns on him. The reason she's resistant… "Oh, God, Temperance…" The way he whispers her given name makes her heart flutter, and she hopes that her cheeks aren't flushed. "I get it…"

"You do?"

He nods, his thumb stroking her smooth, pale skin as he once again drinks her in. She knows, eventually, he will ask for the details, not only as an agent, but as a friend. She is glad that he knows the diner isn't the place for that, "That's where it started."

She nods, her eyes drifting back to her still-full cup. "But, it's more than that, Booth." She takes a deep breath, "I don't think I can be alone right now," Her eyes well again and he appreciates how hard it is for her to admit she needs him, or anyone.

"Come on, let's go." He tugs her into a standing position, his arm wrapping loosely around her slender middle. She takes a gentle step, and he winces when he feels her limp beside him.

"Where are we going?"

He opens her door and helps her inside, smiling when she lets him help her with her seatbelt without a single word about his overbearing, overprotective tendencies. "We are going to my place," He says, when he hops into the driver's seat.

"Booth, you don't have to…"

He turns the engine over, and looks at her, "Hey, it's not a problem." He sees the doubt in her eyes, so he adds, "And, it is not up for negotiation."

He faces forward and smiles as she whispers, "Fine," and watches him intently. He can feel her eyes burning into him, but he resists the urge to return her intense gaze. "Thank you," she mutters, turning to look forward.

"You're very welcome!" He grins.

She squirms, trying to get comfortable, and gasps, "Shit!" She mutters, her hand pressing gently into her hip.

"Hey, hey!" He pulls over, throwing the car into park and ripping off his seatbelt, rushing to her side. "Tell me what hurts, Bones," He whispers, looking her over.

"I'm fine, Booth. Really." She wants to laugh at his worried expression, at the sheer panic in his eyes, and at the intensity of his fear. She has learned, however, that such a thing would be inappropriate, and probably unforgivable. His hands are fluttering incessantly, searching her body for wounds. She tries to push down the wave of heat the contact brings unsuccessfully. She grabs his hands in hers, "Seriously, stop!"

"Not until you tell me what just happened! You were in pain, Bones!"

"I just shifted wrong, that's all. I put too much pressure on my right side, okay? Now, can you please get back in the car? We've developed an audience…"

He glances behind them and sees a cluster of bystanders, watching. "Fine." He closes her door and they make the rest of the short trip without interruption and in silence. Once they are parked outside of his building, she fumbles with her seatbelt, her hands shaking. "Here, I'll help you." He reaches over and releases her, "Wait, let me…"

"I'm fine. Will you stop fussing?" It comes out harsher than she intended, but she's already sick of his prodding. She knows he's just trying to help, but she feels… crowded. She pulls on the door handle, stepping out of the SUV to find that she really should've listened. The second her foot touches the ground, her right knee, weak from the day's events, gives out on her, and she lands on the asphalt, all of her weight on her right wrist.

"Bones!" she hears his footsteps and looks up at him hesitantly. Another wound to explain… She thought bitterly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she mutters, putting some weight on her wrist before crying out in pain. "Maybe not," she shakes her head, "I'm sorry…"  
"It's fine. Let's get you back to the hospital…"

"What? Booth, I'm fine!!"

"No, you're not! You probably broke your wrist," He whispers, staring at her.

She glares at him, "I would know if I broke my wrist. I sprained it. I just need some ice and some Tylenol, alright?" She watches him, his eyes intense, "Are you going to help me up?"

He sighs and grabs her left arm, putting it round his neck as he slips one arm round her waist and the other beneath her knees. He feels her staring at him, but he doesn't dare return the look, not when they are so close. He wouldn't be able to be held accountable for his actions if he did. "What is it now?"

"I said help me, not treat me like I'm some helpless, damsel in distress."

"Hey, you said it, not me," he whispers as he tosses the keys from his fingers and onto her lap. "Make yourself useful, Damsel, and unlock the door." He knows she will make him pay for that later, but right then, he is pleased to see the smile in her eyes, even if her face is still stiff with anger.

"Alpha male," She whispers, her eyes still smiling.

"Stubborn," he retorts as she swings the door open.

He carries her to his couch and as he sets her down, he hears her say, "Arrogant."

He grins, "Smartass..."

She glares at him, "Jerk."

He leans forward, his hands pressed on either side of her, his face just inches from hers. He smiles when he hears her breath hitch, "Beautiful." He whispers, and her eyes widen. Before he can try to cover his tracks, she leans forward and kisses him gently.

He reaches out to stroke her cheeks, his fingertips running over her scabbed skin. He remembers then why she is there, what happened that day, and they both pull back. She sighs, resting her forehead against his, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He sees a flash of hurt in her eyes and knows she's misunderstood him. He grasps her chin with his finger and forces her to look him in the eyes, "I'm not sorry it happened, okay?" She nods, smiling, "Do you, uh… want a beer?"

She nods, and once he's disappeared into the kitchen, she closes her eyes, knowing it will be easier to tell him what happened if he's not looking at her with those scared eyes. "He was in my apartment when I came home from work last night. It was dark, and I didn't notice him. Even if I had, he'd been waiting, and he had my bat… there wouldn't have been much more I could've done." She opens her eyes to find him kneeling before her, two beers in his hands.

"Keep going," he whispers, taking her hand in his.

* * *

AN: Obviously, not a one-shot. I'm not that evil. Do you like:)


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Any names here are not intended to be the names of real people, so please don't sue me for character defamation. All you'd win is some lip gloss and a few cds... :) ALSO, a little more... swearing and some minor, uh, suggestive adult themes. But not graphic enough to be M, so it's still T... You've been warned. OH and also, slight spoilers from 2X18 killer in the concrete. :) (and italics are flashbacks)

_

* * *

She pulled the keys from the lock and threw them onto the table beside the door. She dropped her bag next to the table as she stepped out of her worn shoes and shrugged out of her jacket. As her fingers stretch for the light switch, she hears a creak in the floor behind her, and spins around in time for what appears to be a bat swing out and crash against her left knee. She gasps and falls to the ground, clutching her knee as her right leg sweeps out, meeting her attacker's ankles. He crashes to the floor, and she estimates from the effort it took to take him down that his is approximately 235 pounds. She glances at his shadowy figure, and can tell it is a stocky 235 pounds--he's only about 5'3" tall. She sees him lift the bat, so she rolls towards the door. She grabs her keys from the table and reaches for the door knob. It is then that the bat meets her right hip, and she manages to draw her left leg to her chest before thrusting it back, her heel digging into his groin. She pulled the door open and crawled for the stairs, the world spinning before her eyes. She manages to drag herself to her nearest neighbors, but her fist barely grazes the door as she blacks out._

She looked at him, his eyes cloudy with emotions. She could only recognize two--anger and fear. Her hand sought out his, needing to feel him, needing to know he was really there, beside her. "Do you want me to continue?" He nodded, so she complied, "The next thing I remember I was waking up. The room was dark and cold... my arms were tied behind me, around a chair. There was one small window, near the ceiling, which is when I figured out I was in a basement... My head was pounding, and I felt something damp on the side of my face. I assumed it was blood, but I don't remember being hit in the head, so he must have done it while I was out..."

"Coward," he whispers, his voice heavy with rage.

She smiles, "That's when the other man came in. He identified himself immediately as Marcus Nalten. He said it wasn't personal, that they didn't attack and kidnap me because of anything I did. It was to lure you, to get you to walk into a trap. I tried to ask why they wanted you, what they had against you, but he wouldn't tell me." She looked at him, "Why would they think that having me would hurt you, Booth? Why did they think you'd come for me? And who is he?"

Booth sighed, "Marcus Nalten is the baby brother of Leiutenant James P. Nalten--he was a member of my platoon. He was taken out by a sniper--it had all the signs of being an army-issued hit. Anyone outside of the platoon assumed it was me, and everyone in the platoon knew better than to question me about it. Jimmy was a good friend of mine--even if they'd ordered me, I'd never have taken him out, Bones."

"But his family thinks that you did it?"

He shrugs, "They heard the rumors, thought it was a possibility. I'm sorry, Bones... this is all my fault..."

"No it isn't!" She smiled, "But... why would they use me as bait?"

"It's common knowledge that we're partners, and that I usually end up rescuing you from psychopaths..." He smiles, "What else happened?"

_"I want him to suffer--that's all you need to know," Nalten smiled at her, "My friend said to tell you he'd see you real soon."_

_"Friend?" She croaked, her throat dry._

_"Yeah, the one you tried to escape from earlier? Put up a good fight..." Her heart sank, "He should look familiar..."_

_With that, he left her alone, to ponder who she knew with the physique she remembered her attacker having._

_"Well, Well! If it isn't Dr. Temperance Brennan!" The voice sent off alarms in her mind, but she couldn't place it. That is, until he smiled. And then, when she pictured him with light, curly hair and a slightly heavier build... it was definetly Gallagher. "Ah, I see you remember me!"_

_She merely nodded--this was the man that had kidnapped Booth, tortured him, wanted to kill him. To take him from her... And now, he was using her to finish what he'd started months ago. "How did you get out of prison?"_

_He grinned, "I've got connections, darlin'." He took a few steps towards her, and she took a small amount of pleasure at his tentative steps, knowing that he was aching. "And now, Dr. Brennan... I've got a little problem. See, I spent six months in prison... and, well, it's left me achin' for some..." He leaned in close, whispering, "female attention" in her ear. As he pulled back, she spit in his face. He slapped her hard enough to turn the chair over, her cheek sliding painfully against the concrete floor. "You little bitch!" He called, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her up._

_"You're not going to lay one fucking hand on me, you grimy little bastard!" She whispered, bile rising into her throat at the thought._

_"Oh, but I will. Because I know just how much it will hurt Agent Booth to know that I touched his precious partner. To know I had her before her did..." Grinning, her brought his face to hers and kissing her. He forced his tongue inside her mouth, his hand grabbing her breast. Knowing he was distracted, she widened her jaw slightly before snapping it shut, feeling the strong muscle twitch between her teeth, the tinny taste of his blood flooding her mouth. He jerked away and brought a fist to her abdomen. She doubled over and let his blood sit near the front of her mouth. When she finally looked back to him, she spit it all into his face, smiling as the red floated down his cheeks. "You whore!" He shouted, before Nalten came to see what all the fuss was about._

"That son of a bitch!" Booth jumped up, pacing in front of the couch, "He kissed you?" He watched as she nodded, a tear slipping down her torn cheek. "Oh, God... he didn't..." He couldn't say the words, couldn't bring the horrible thought to life.

"No. He said he was going to... but he didn't have the chance," He sighed with relief, and she offered him a weak smile.

"It doesn't matter, though. He thought about... I'm still going to kill him."

She chuckled and patted the seat beside her, "Sit back down." When he did, she leaned forward slowly and wrapped her arms around him, "Thank you", she whispered, pulling him tightly against her.

"Anytime, Bones." He pressed a kiss into the side of her neck and smiled when she shook. "You must be exhausted... let's get you to bed, eh?"

"Excuse me?" She raised an eyebrow, "I'm sleeping right here, Booth, on your couch."

"No, that's where I'm sleeping. See, the rule is the injured person gets the big, comfy bed, and the uninjured person gets the living room. So, let's go..." He pulled her up and put his arm around her waist, guiding her back to his bedroom. He left her by the bed and went over to his dresser, fishing around inside a drawer before finding what he was looking for, "Here, you can wear this..." He tossed her a t-shirt and stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what should come next. "Well, goodnight, Bones." He kissed her forehead and dashed from the room, standing in the hallway and trying to regain his composure.

"Booth?" He heard her whisper, so he re-entered, slightly shocked to see her still in her clothes.

"What's wrong?"

She flushed, "I can't... I can't change into the t-shirt, Booth. My wrist hurts too much." She bit her lip, her eyes focused on the ground in front of his feet. "Would you... do you think you could... can you help me?"

He approached her wordlessly, gently lifting her shirt away from her body, trying to focus on the task and not the fact that she was half naked before him. He reached for his tee and slipped it over her head, watching it fall to the top of her thighs.

"Booth... My bra?" She flushed even more, and he felt his heart speed up again.

"I know, Bones..." He offered her a small smile as his hands slipped beneath the hem of the shirt, his fingers dancing the length of her spine before reaching the clasp. He felt the fabric give and tug forward from the weight of her breasts, and he urged his growing erection to go away. He pulled his hands from her back and slipped them up the sleeves of the shirt, pulling the straps away from her shoulders one at a time. "I think you can, um... finish, right?" He whispered, his voice thick. She nodded, her good arm snaking up the shirt and pulling the material from her body, tossing it onto her shirt that he'd discarded on the floor. He reached forward, undoing her belt before finally unsnapping her jeans. He pulled down the zipper and prayed that the pants would just fall from her hips and land at her feet... but he, of course, was not that lucky. He looked her in the eye as his hands found her hips, feeling the heat of her skin burning through the thick fabric. He slipped his fingers beneath her jeans, gently touching her skin. He heard a sharp intake of breath and the slow hiss of its release, and realized after a second that it had been him, not her. It was his wrists that really pulled her jeans from her body, as his fingers skimmed the outside of her thighs, feeling the smooth flesh beneath his rough fingertips. When he finally knealt before her, his fingertips touching the soft cotton of her socks, he took a deep breath, knowing most of the torture was over. He gently tugged at her legs, pulling the jeans from under her feet and placing them with her other clothes.

"Thank you," She replied weakly, and he simply nodded, unable to find his voice and struggling to keep his breathing steady. "Booth?" She whispered, taking a step towards him.

"Hmm?" He whispered, not wanting her to come too close to him, knowing that his erection was still pressing stubbornly into his thigh.

"Stay with me?" Her eyes glittered, and he knew what she wanted. Safety.

He nodded, "Of course..."


	3. Chapter 3

_He ripped open her shirt, his blood still on his cheek where she'd spat on him, a hunger in his eyes that made her stomach lurch. She was not prepared for this. This wasn't supposed to happen. "Don't touch me, you son of a bitch!" She screamed, "Help me!"_

_"Who are you calling for, darlin'?" Gallagher sneered, his finger running the length of her exposed collarbone. He leaned in close, whispering, "Nobody's gonna hear you. Scream all you want. In fact..." He backed away and looked her in the eyes, the darkness she found there making her blood run cold, "I might prefer that..."_

She awoke with a start, feeling his skin touching hers, "No!"

"Bones," Booth struggled to restrain her flailing limbs, "Bones, it's just me, okay? You're safe, I promise!" He was relieved when she stopped, her breathing still deep, like she was running for her life. Like she was scared to death. He reached out for her hand, but she pulled away and shifted to the farthest corner of his bed. He hated himself for it, but as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, although she was broken and aching and bruised, he didn't know if she'd ever looked more beautiful to him. "Bones?"

"It was just a nightmare, Booth. I'm fine." She was staring at the moon, solitary in a black sky. She felt his eyes drilling into her, and with a sigh, she met his gaze, "I'm fine."

He nodded and moved from beneath the blankets, hissing when his bare feet met with the icy wooden floors. "You need your rest, okay? Go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Wait, Booth... please, don't go." She offered him a tense smile, her eyes full of tears, "Being alone will only make them worse." She watched as he silently returned to his side of the bed. "He came close. To raping me. He tried..."

"You said..."

She looked at him, his face flushed from rage. "I know what I said. I didn't... I didn't want to talk about it."

"But that was what your nightmare was about?"

She nodded, squeezing herself even more. She rested her chin on her knees and watched his hands, the way his fingers dug into his mattress as though they were wrapping around Gallagher's throat and choking the life from him. "He ripped open my blouse... He was watching me, and the way he was looking at me..." She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, "No one has ever looked at me like that before. It was awful, Booth. I can't even--I can't even explain it. I felt sick, and panicked, and dirty. I told him not to touch me, and started screaming 'Help Me'... and he laughed. He said no one would hear me scream... but he'd prefer me screaming when he..." She finally looked at him, hesitantly, trying to gauge his reaction. "So when I woke up... my mind was still there. And I felt you touching me, and I just, I reacted because of the nightmare."

"Bones, I would never..."

"I know," she interrupted, grabbing his hand and holding it firmly in her own. "Trust me, I know. I never thought you would. When I reacted, it wasn't because it was you. I was still stuck there, with Gallagher, and I thought it was him. I was..."

"Trying to defend yourself?" He offered, and she nodded. "Come on, you need some sleep." He watched as she crawled back beneath the blankets and turned to face him. "Go on, go to sleep..."

She frowned, "Aren't you going to sleep?"

He shrugged, "I'm going to sit up for a bit. I'll be right here, I promise." He glanced at the moon, then looked back to her, smiling at the way she looked in the moonlight. When she slept, she looked so peaceful. If it weren't for that scrape on her cheek, he wouldn't have been able to tell she'd been through such a trauma. He sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before crawling between the sheets and falling asleep beside her.

* * *

He blinked rapidly, unsure of what had woken him up. He tried to focus, listen for noises of a break in or signs of distress from Brennan. That was when he heard her soft snoring and felt the pressure on his right side. He looked over, smiling as he saw her head against his bicep. He followed the curve of her body, tempted to pause at her thighs where he could make out the faintest hint of her panties. He continued on, however, and found the most interesting discovery yet--Temperance Brennan was most certainly a cuddler. He'd never had her pegged for that, but at that thought a wide smile spread across his face. Her right leg was tossed over his legs, and he almost laughed when she put her arm over his abdomen and pulled herself closer to him, resting her head on his chest. His arm now free, he wrapped it gingerly around her, squeezing her lightly to him. He had no idea exactly how early it was, but he assumed with the gradual light filtering through the blinds, it was approaching 7 am. "Bones?" He whispered softly, nudging her. She groaned and rubbed her nose against his chest in frustration as she succumbed to some itch that twitched her. "Bones!" He said, slightly louder.

"Shush..." She muttered, and he felt her left hand snake beneath his back. 'Oh, this is great,' he thought, grinning. 'She's hugging me in her sleep. She looks cute... god, did I just say cute?' He shook the internal dialogue from his mind and tried once again to wake her.

"Come on, Bones. You said you wanted to go in to the lab and talk to Ange..." At the mention of the lab, her eyes sprang open, and he chuckled when the realization dawned in her eyes that she was pressed against him, half naked. "Good morning, sunshine..."

"Mention one thing about this to anyone," she whispered, unwrapping herself from him, "And I'll kill you."

He nodded, struggling to keep composure. "Wouldn't want to damage your reputation, Bones."

She glared at him and wrapped the sheet around herself. "I'm going to take a shower..." She stood and exited the room, the sheet trailing behind her on the floor. He stared after her until he heard the pipes groan, breaking him from his reverie. He didn't know exactly when it'd happened, but somewhere along the way, they'd become closer than he'd ever thought possible. Perhaps the start of it was Kenton; it was them, dancing around her apartment to a cheesy eighties song that will forever be associated, for him, with high kicks and fiery explosions... it was the relief he felt that he'd insisted on getting his own drink, the desperation he felt when he realized that Kenton was behind it all, the curious mixture of joy and pain when he'd found her bound and gagged and ready for slaughter, her arms around his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder, her tears and hot breath moving through his sweater and weighing so heavily on his skin; it was her giving up her date so he wouldn't be alone. It was the start, but it wasn't the end. The next thing he knew he was on a plane to New Orleans to rescue her from her tragic idea of a vacation, the shock of seeing her battered and broken and clueless crushing him. He risked his job and his future to protect her, to give her back a piece of her mother, to show her that he understood her on some level, that he knew she was innocent.

Grand gestures... Seeley Booth was all about the little things with big meanings that weren't always so easy to read into.

Although those events shaped how they were with each other, and how they felt (even if they didn't say it...), he knew the exact moment when he realized what she'd meant to him. He'd been sitting in the diner, their place... with Cam. She was talking about a vacation... his phone rang and she urged him to ignore it. Although he never said as much, he hated her a little from that moment on. Had he answered, maybe he could've done something sooner... The Gravedigger, calling his phone while he was with his quasi-girlfriend to inform him that the woman he loved--his best friend--was buried underground somewhere and her air was running out as the woman across from him was staring at him, a half smile on her face like she'd won some competition. His stomach churned as he played it for the squints, knowing that they'd feel something along the lines of what he was at that moment. Knowing they'd help him, and together they'd solve this case and find her before the air was drained. Before she suffocated on her own carbon dioxide.

He knew that the way he felt couldn't be ignored when he threw the ex-FBI officer into the table, threatened him without blinking, his fear mixing with his rage. He knew he loved her when he looked out into the sand, knowing she was buried somewhere below those billions of grains, waiting for him like she always did. He knew his life would be forever changed when he saw that puff of smoke and felt hope once more, the heaviness that had weighed on him through the entire ordeal lifted as he ran towards that spot at full speed, his legs and lungs begging him to stop, his hands acting as shovels trying to get to her and see for himself that she was still alive, still alright.

He shook the memories from his head, and wondered to himself exactly how many more near misses they'd allow themselves before they admitted they were in love.

* * *

AN: I don't think that the "insight" behind his memories is anything new really, but I'm hoping to tie all that together in the next chapter...


	4. Chapter 4

She fought the urge to lock the door behind her. Logically, she knew that she was safe--she was in Booth's bathroom, and he was only a few feet away, should she truly be in danger. She sighed and dropped the sheet, the warm cotton pooling around her feet as her legs were suddenly assaulted by the gust of cool air. Goosebumps spread the length of her calves and rose to her thighs, and she shivered, although she wasn't quite sure if it was due to the cold or the fear that still lingered inside of her. She reached forward and gripped the immaculate porcelain sink, taking a few deep breaths as she prepared to look into the mirror--the first and last time she'd do it for the entire day.

Her cheek looked slightly swollen; Infection, she thought bitterly as she reached to touch the mark and gauge its tenderness. Her fingers skimmed their way to the gash along her hairline, surprised that such a small cut could've bled as much as it had. She picked out a few pieces of dried blood from her tangled hair before resigning herself to the hottest shower known to man. She peeled off Booth's over-sized shirt, happy to realize she could once again undress herself after the previous night's embarrassment...

She frowned into the mirror, noticing the bruises along the lower part of her neck, and the larger ones on her arms and back. She lifted her arms slightly to find minimal bruising along her ribs and abdomen, and a particularly nasty bruise on her hip from when Gallagher had struck her with her own bat. She blinked rapidly to fight off the tears as the memories once again invaded her mind. She could still feel his lips on hers, his tongue and blood and spit in her mouth... She reached forward and opened his medicine cabinet, quickly finding a bottle of mouthwash. She took a long swig of the minty liquid and swirled it around with purpose. She was going to erase this from her mind, and from her life. All she had to do was stop thinking about it. Get distance from it, and analyze it all logically. She would be fine.

She spat the used wash into the basin and rinsed it away. She could feel grime coating her teeth, but she refused to use Booth's toothbrush--it seemed like an evasion she was not prepared to make. More intimate, somehow, than sharing his bed or wearing his clothes. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. Maybe, after the shower, she could ask him to take her to her apartment to get some clothes and her toothbrush... She shuddered at the thought of having to go back. Maybe she'd ask him to take her to the store so she could by a new toothbrush and some new clothes. Sighing, she stepped to the shower and turned on the faucet, watching as the hot water gradually grew hotter, the steam billowing off of the shining tub, bouncing off of the sparkling white ceramic tiles of the walls, curling outwards against the plastered ceiling. She stepped inside the cloud of steam, barely able to see the lower half of her body, let alone the edge of the tub. She felt the soles of her feet burn and smiled as she reached over and turned on the cold water. It was still hot enough to let more steam off, but it was no longer so hot it was turning her skin crimson--she turned the knob and jumped as the water pounded against her bruises, a million streams hitting her like needles. She took a few deep breaths and rotated, her back now taking the brunt of the attack. For a few minutes she stood completely still, Letting the water roll down her shoulders, gather in pools by her collar bone before rolling between her breasts and down her stomach, enjoying the thought that it was washing away the grime that had accumulated... taking away the feel of his hands on her, his lips on her, his tongue.

She reached for the bar of soap, smelling it. It was Irish Spring... she raised an eyebrow. She never really imagined Booth using that brand--though she'd never really thought about what soap he would use--it just didn't seem very Booth-like. She looked at it curiously, turning it over in her hands. This was his... something he used every morning. She wondered if he used a washcloth, or if he just rubbed the bar along his body. At the mental image, she felt her cheeks flush. 'Get a grip, Tempe.' she thought, working up a lather and running her hands over her face, neck and shoulders before rinsing off and lathering again, focusing on her arms and breasts, her stomach and back. Rinse and lather; she washed her bottom half, trying to forget the way she'd imagined him looking as he stood in his own shower, rubbing the pale green bar over his slick body--across his shoulders, down his chest, over his abdomen, down to his... She stood back up quickly. Too quickly. Suddenly the world was spinning, a mess of steam and shower curtain. She pressed her back against the shockingly cold tile, closing her eyes and taking careful breaths. Eyes still closed, she ran her fingers along the wall and found the hot water tap, turning it down and feeling the difference immediately. With the water now lukewarm at best, she eased herself beneath the stream, letting her body cool down. So much for the hottest shower known to man...

She opened her eyes to search for his shampoo. Not that it was hard to find--he had just 5 items in the shower; Irish Spring, a pair of bottles with labels peeled that she guessed contained some embarrassing brand of shampoo and conditioner that he didn't want anyone to know he used, and vO5 shampoo and conditioner. She grabbed the VO5 and worked the pinkish liquid between her hands before running them through her tresses vigorously. She visualized every drop of blood disappearing from her locks, every speck of dirt fading away in the suds as she stuck her head back beneath the stream until every drop of shampoo had vanished. She worked a small amount of the conditioner through her hair--just enough to make sure it wouldn't be too badly tangled.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and she jumped despite herself and her early remonstrations about her safety in Booth's bathroom. "Bones?"

She swallowed and rolled her eyes, her hand covering her now-pounding heart, "Yes, Booth?" She shouted over the rushing water.

"I uh..." he tried the handle and she held her breath, "Don't worry..." he waved his hand through the crack he'd created, "I won't come in. I called Angela, and she brought over some clothes for you. And a toothbrush. And your hairbrush..."

"Thanks..."

"I'll just leave them on the edge of the sink for you." He placed the neatly folded pile of clothes by the sink, placing the bag containing her brushes beside that. "Did you find the towels?"

She shook her head, "Oh. No. I didn't even look..." She blushed. "Where are they?"

He opened the door a bit more, "I won't look, Scout's Honor." He took a step inside, his hands over his eyes. She took a second to appreciate his muscular torso, since he couldn't see her stare.

"Were you a boy scout?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Nope." He walked halfway into the room and turned towards the door, dropping his hand from his face. She held her breath again, pressing herself against the tile and cursing him for choosing a clear curtain. He turned his head to his left and opened a cupboard, pulling out a large towel and stepping backwards a little. He kept his eyes to his left, and she kept her breath trapped in her lungs, afraid that if she breathed, he'd turn around and see her. Not that he hadn't seen pretty much all of it the night before. He seemed oblivious to her as he turned and place the towel on the bar attatched to the wall, easily within reach for her when she wanted to get out. "There you go. I'm making breakfast--How do you like your eggs?"

"Can you make them scrambled?"

He reached the door and turned to face her. She gasped, frantically trying to cover herself before noticing his eyes were closed. "Oh, I'm the king when it comes to scrambling..."

After he left, she imagined what he would've said if she'd replied 'I think you've just found your Queen, because all I seem to do around you is scramble...' She rolled her eyes. That was horridly corny. And it didn't make much sense. She chose to blame it on the nightmares and her improper sleep. She turned off the water and stretched carefully, trying not to increase the tenderness of her injuries by aggravating them with harsh pulls on her muscles and skin. She pulled the curtain open and ran the towel along her body before ringing out her hair and stepping out of the shower. She hissed as her feet touched the icy tiles. She scampered over to the sink and sifted through the articles Angela had brought for her--she found the socks and slipped them on gratefully before dressing in her favorite pair of dark grey yoga pants and pale pink tank top. She wrapped the towel around her head as she brushed her teeth and rinsed once more with mouth wash. Once she'd run through all of her now-altered routines, she stepped out of the bathroom.

She found him in the kitchen, his back to her as he flipped pancakes with a flick of his wrist, ignoring the spatula in favor of talent. "Thought you were making eggs..." she said with a grin.

He replaced the pan and turned to face her, "They're ready. Just making some side-dishes."

She took a seat at the table, "Since when are pancakes considered a side dish?"

He grinned and turned back to the stove. "Oh, since you're still making breakfast--where is the washing machine? I want to wash the towel and your sheet... maybe your t-shirt, too..."

"In the hall, behind the first door on your left... But you don't have to worry about that. I'll do it."

She rolled her eyes, "I'll be right back." She gathered the laundry she'd left scattered about the bathroom and unwrapped her hair from the towel, brushing it back into a bun at the base of her neck before adding the towel to the pile.

He was standing in front of the washing machine, arms folded defiantly across his chest. "I told you I'd do it."

She tightened her grip on the dirty laundry, "And I told you, I can take care of it."

"Actually, you didn't..."

She rolled her eyes and nudged him out of her way, "Whatever, Booth. Just let me do this."

He placed his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him, "Why does it matter?"

Her eyes welled, "I just need to do something, okay. I have to do something..."

He nodded and let her go past him. He stood in the doorway, just watching and listening. He could tell she was crying, and he ached for her--he tried not to let it show when she turned around. "Breakfast?"

She nodded and walked to him, stopping just a few inches before running into him, "Thanks, for everything."

He smiled, enjoying the way her eyes lit up when she returned the gesture. "Come here..." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her gently against him, breathing in her scent. She pulled back, reluctantly, giving him a larger smile than earlier. He paused, caught off guard. And in that instant, he did what he thought he would never do...

* * *

AN: sorry about the cliff... and the long wait between chapters! I've had a crazy past couple of months--19 credit hours will prevent you from posting... Hope you'll forgive me, and will read and review. Hope it's not awful:D

PS who else LOVED the Christmas Episode? swoon

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

AN: A huge Thanks to BonesDBChippie (I sure hope I got your name right) for all of the advice. I hope this corrects some of the inconsistencies, and I hope it satisfies everyone. Also... I didn't leave you with a huge cliffie this time:D

* * *

He dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step back, watching the sparkle in her eyes fade with his touch. "I'm sorry..." He whispered as he turned and walked away. He opened his front door and pressed himself against the wall in the hallway of his building, letting himself slide to the floor. He wanted nothing more than to grab her, to kiss her, to make her forget herself... he wanted to be with her, to be next to her, to be inside her... He closed his eyes, hating himself. She was broken... he had wanted her for so long, but he had waited to acknowledge that until now, and now he knew he had waited too long. Perhaps if he'd told her sooner, instead of going to her place that night, she would have been at his, and none of this would've happened. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to let her know that she was safe, though, and he didn't know if she would after everything that had happened the past few days.

He sighed and stood, dusting off his jeans and opening the door, "Bones?" He went into the kitchen and saw their food, uneaten and cold, still on the table. Frowning, he called for her again. His heart began to pound, fear building inside of him. He ran to his room and was relieved to see her sitting on his bed, her hands folded in her lap, "Why didn't you answer? I was so..." He paused, noticing the look on her face. She was pissed.

"I would like to go back to my place..."

"What? I mean... really?" He raised an eyebrow. "What's going on, Temperance?"

"I can't stay here with you, Booth." She sighed, her eyes welling with tears. "After everything that's happened... I'm confused. You're my best friend, but there's... there's something else between us too. And I can't handle that right now. I can't. As much as I want to be near you, it's too hard. I keep flashing back to what Gallagher did, what he wanted to do, what he tried to do. And I know that you're not him. I feel safe with you. But sometimes you get this look in your eyes like you want me, and I'm not ready yet. I want you, but right now..." She took a deep breath and dropped her eyes, "Right now, I'm not good enough."

"You're wrong, Bones. You're perfect..."

She held up her hand, "Stop. I'm not perfect. Not now, and not before this, and I never will be. There's no such thing. Thank you for saying so, but it doesn't help anything." Keeping her eyes glued to the floor, she continued, "I think it would be easier for both of us if I went back to my place."

"If it's what you really want, then okay. But personally, I'd feel better if you stayed here." He frowned, "If you're not comfortable around me... that's okay. It's understandable. If it makes a difference, I'll sleep on the couch. And I'll let you keep my gun... If you think I'm going to make a pass, you can shoot me..." She laughed, shaking her head at him. "Seriously, Bones... please don't leave because of me. I want to know that you're safe, and the only way that I know that is if you're here. With me."

She bit her lip, and his stomach turned, "Do I really get your gun?"

He laughed, relieved, "Can we talk about that whole 'you can shoot me' thing over breakfast?"

"It's cold by now."

He nodded, "That's why we're going to the diner. Then to the Jeffersonian, just like you requested."

She got up and stood in front of him. Grabbing his hands in hers, she looked into his warm eyes, "Thank you for understanding, Booth. I really do appreciate everything you're doing..."

"Don't worry about it. It's kind of my thing."

She rolled her eyes as she led the way down the hall, "How is it 'your thing'?"

"What I meant, Miss Literal, is that it's my job as your partner and my duty as your best friend to do what I can to help you. And to protect you. So, don't worry about it."

She smiled as she opened the door, thinking to herself how lucky she was to have someone like him in her life, and hoping she'd never have to know a life without him again.

* * *

She ordered a black coffee and toast, her mind too preoccupied to register hunger. He ordered pancakes, two scrambled eggs, a side of bacon, a side of sausage, hash browns, a coffee with cream and three sugars, and a glass of orange juice. She raised an eyebrow at his expansive order, but made no comment, and he offered no explanation. "So, about this gun situation..." 

He laughed and thanked the waitress for the coffee she'd delivered, "I'll let you keep my backup in the bedside drawer. But you have to promise to keep the safety on, and to try to avoid shooting me at all costs."

"You're really giving me your room? And a gun? What's the catch?"

He shook his head, "No catch. I want you to feel safe. You're safer in my bed than on my couch. You're safer with a gun than without one. If it'll make you more comfortable, then it's yours." He didn't add that he'd give her anything she wanted, so long as she stayed within fifty feet of him. He couldn't stand the idea of her being back in her own apartment; couldn't imagine what it would be like for her to have to face that all over again.

"Then I'll stay. But we have to remember..." The waitress brought their food, and she waited until she had left again to continue, "We have to remember to keep our distance. Deal?"

He smiled, "It's a deal. But I think you know, it's easier said than done."

She blushed and sipped her coffee. Reaching over, she snagged a piece of bacon, "Wow, this is amazing!"

He laughed, "Take it. I got it for you."

She smiled, grabbing the two remaining slices from his plate, "Thanks. That was very kind of you."

"So why did you want to talk to Angela?"

She shrugged, "She's worried about me. I just want her to know that I'll be okay. I might not be right now, but I will be. And I'm safe, so..." she sighed, "I just don't want her to be afraid for me anymore."

He nodded, "We were all terrified when you didn't come in. Hodgins was sort of hysterical... I think he kept flashing back to the Gravedigger case. It made it harder for Angela--she had to try to calm us all down."

"All of you?"

"Yeah. Zach was freaking out--kept asking Cam for work to do to distract himself. Cam was trying to get a hold of anyone she could think of to track you down--people from the Jeffersonian, people at your agency..." He took a few bites of his eggs before continuing, "And I couldn't help but think that it had something to do with Gallagher. He'd just gotten out, and we had people tracking him. But he dodged them and we couldn't get a hold of him again... until after we knew he had you."

"How did you? Know he had me, I mean."

* * *

His phone shook violently against the metal examining table it was resting on. Four sets of eyes darted to him, their anxiety wearing on their faces. "Booth." 

"I know who this is. The better question Agent Booth--do you know who I am?"

He paused, trying to place the voice. It was only slightly familiar, but the years had faded the memory, "Cut the games. Who are you, and what do you want?"

The stranger laughed, "I want my brother back. You killed him, Agent Booth. And now, I'll take something that's precious to you from you forever. Maybe then you'll know what you've put my family through."

"Who was your brother?" He held his breath, knowing this man had her, his mind swimming with guilt at the idea that whatever happened to her would be due to his past, somehow.

"James Nalten. Do you remember him--you called him your best friend, once." The man spat venomously.

"I didn't kill Jimmy, Marcus. I know that your family thought that I played a role in that, but that was the reason I left the service when I did. I became useless to them when I refused to kill him. I tried to warn him, but they moved too quickly. He was dead when I found him. I never regretted anything more." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, holding his hand up to silence the squints, "No matter what happened then... you need to let Temperance go. Even if you think I killed your brother still, if you touch even a hair on her head, I will make you regret the day you were born. If you tell me where to find her now, I'll be able to work with the prosecutor and reduce your sentence. Don't be stupid, man."

The line was quiet, and Booth feared he had lost the brother until he spoke again, "I'm not alone. A man named Gallagher helped... it was his idea to take your girl... and if you want to save her from what he's got planned, you need to get there fast. I don't think he's wasting much time..."

His voice was lodged in his throat, "What does Gallagher have planned for her?"

"He's going to rape her... and he plans on killing her in front of you. If you can catch him off-guard, before he rapes her... you may be able to save her life."

"Where is she?" He grabbed a pen and scribbled the address on a scrap of paper Cam handed him. He hung up and dialed for back up, running out of the Jeffersonian and turning on his lights, rushing through traffic to get to the house he was told held his partner, his heart racing from the possibility of being too late to save her from the horrors planned.

He arrived outside and saw that no one else had arrived. He sighed and rushed out of the car, unable to wait when he knew that she was inside, about to be brutalized by this monster who was out to make him suffer. He kicked in the door, his gun before him. He pressed himself against the wall, trying to listen for any noise. That was when he heard it--her scream, the sound of ripping clothes. "Shit!" he moved quickly through the house, following the sound of her voice as she berated him, her voice trembling from fear. 'Hold on, Bones. I'm coming...' he thought as he quietly descended the stairs. He rounded a corner, spotting them in the center of a clearing. "Hold it, Gallagher! Don't move a muscle..." He shouted, watching as he froze, his face just inches from Temperance's face. His sick smile faded quickly.

"You're early, Agent Booth..." He drawled, standing up and taking a step back. "I had quite a show planned for you."

"I heard. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Except that you messed up the plot a bit. Don't you know that the bad guy never gets the girl?" He heard the pounding feet overhead and knew that the back up had finally arrived. "Hold on just a second, Bones. Back up's here, and I'm going to get you out of here, okay? And you... you're going back to prison." He wanted to add that he hoped that he was made some big, bald man's bitch before he was shanked in the courtyard, but he bit his tongue.

Once there were several guns aimed at Gallagher, and the other agents were cuffing him, Booth holstered his gun and rushed to her side, wasting no time in cutting her bonds. She threw her arms around him, sobbing, "Shh, it's okay. You're safe now. You're going to be just fine." He rubbed her back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, his arms closing around her protectively. Once all the others had left the basement, he released her. He saw that her clothes were ravaged beyond repair, and his anger flashed white-hot within him once more. Taking off his shirt, he placed it over her shoulders and helped her into it, fastening a few buttons. "Come on, let's get you out of here. Do you want to go anywhere specific?"

She wiped her eyes and shook her head, "Just get me out of here. Anywhere."

He nodded and helped her up the stairs, "How about some coffee?"

* * *

"So the co-conspirator turned himself in?" She took the last bite of her toast and washed it down with a sip of his O.J. "Do I have to speak at their sentencing?" 

"Marcus got a plea bargain--kidnapping and conspiracy to commit murder; he's getting 5-10. Gallagher... They will ask you to testify against. Without your testimony, he could get off easier than he should."

"Will you be there with me?"

He nodded, "If you want me to be there."

"I don't think I could do it if you weren't there." She whispered. "Do you know when they'll bring it to court?"

He had gotten the call from Caroline that morning, while she was in the shower, and had been waiting for the right time to break the news to her since. "They want to start as soon as possible. They're bringing some major charges against him. Caroline's requesting that he be held without bond for the trial. For sentencing... she's hoping they give him life without parole."

"What are they charging him with?"

"Attempted rape, aggravated assault, breaking and entering, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder... I think that's all that was mentioned." He reached across the table and held her hand in his, "He will not get away with what he did to you. I promise, Bones, as soon as the trial is over, you will never have to see his face again."

She smiled and gently pulled her hand from his grasp. Despite the overwhelming desire to have him comfort her, she knew it would only lead them down a dangerous path she'd made him swear to avoid just an hour before. "I hope you're right." She shuddered at the thought of having to sit before him, telling the world what he'd done to her. It made her sick. It made her feel so weak and pathetic. She was not some tragic, helpless woman--she knew 4 forms of self defense. She was trained to defend herself should she ever be attacked. And yet, she had become a victim somehow. She couldn't put the pieces together, and it was incredibly discomforting to her that somewhere along the way, she had let the panic of the attack overthrow her knowledge. It was disquieting. It made her insides explode with loathing and fear and unease. She wanted to kill him, and yet, she never wanted to see him again. The idea of him made her sick to her stomach, made her head ache and her heart race. She saw the look of worry cross Booth's face. She smiled once more, "I'm fine."

"Okay. We should get going..." He pulled a few bills from his wallet and placed them beneath his coffee cup, "Angela's waiting for us."

She nodded, taking a few careful steps towards the door. Her limp had barely improved, and Booth tried to swallow his emotions as he saw her in such pain. This was not the place, and now was certainly not the time. Not when acting on emotion could ruin what had barely begun...


End file.
